


and on that fateful day, we were inspired by the love we lost

by tsushido



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Mentions of Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:54:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24406144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsushido/pseuds/tsushido
Summary: yuri plisetsky and his relationship with love.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	and on that fateful day, we were inspired by the love we lost

**Author's Note:**

> this piece was inspired by nocturne in op 9, no 1 & noctune in op 9, no 2
> 
> links to songs mentioned in this fic:  
> Nocturne Op. 9 No. 1  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nb3vj9zTHX0
> 
> Pièces Froides  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MPz4WElbtZI
> 
> Nocturne Op. 9 No. 2  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9E6b3swbnWg

yuri plisetsky sat in the window of his small apartment, sunlight filtering through the glass and highlighting his blue-green eyes while he stared out at the world below. a soft piece of classical music was playing from the radio behind him, lying on the small bedside table that potya always managed to knock everything off of.

honestly, he was growing to hate classical music.

scratch that. he already did. but not for the reasons that most people tended to find themselves hating classical music for.

to him, it served as a reminder of his twisted past. his father, his mother, his grandparents. 

always something to remind him of the things that would inevitably fade away.

\---

he was only 2 years old when his father died.

he didn't really remember him, and no one expected him to. yuri was so young, so full of passion, sights set on nothing but his dreams that lay just beyond the stars; it's no wonder that he barely noticed when his father passed. 

save for one distant memory, he was practically a stranger.

the only memory yuri had of the man was a few months prior to his death. his mother and father were in the kitchen, holding each other and swaying to his father's favorite piece of music, noctune op. 9 no. 1. the sunlight danced through the windows, enveloping their forms in a soft orange glow as they held onto each other like they were the only thing in the world to keep the other from crumbling beneath them.

no one could blame yuri for barely noticing his own father's death, for he was so young, so innocent, so full of light. he was too young to understand then, too disconnected from the world to understand the concept of death at the time.

it didn't mean that he wouldn't feel the pain of it eventually.

it didn't mean that he wouldn't still feel the pain, even now.

\---

his mother was a different story.

she was never truly there for yuri after his father died, if one could consider her to be there at all. his mother had no surviving family other than her son. the son which looked almost exactly like her lover. her only lover.

she was an idol, yes, an elegant, delicate figure. a woman who some considered too delicate for the industry, a woman who retired too early on just to be with her one true love.

the woman who truly retired for reasons that didn't just involve her lover. the woman who no one knew had any son. 

the media was oblivious to her true life. she planned to keep it that way.

as time went on, her son grew. 

and in that same time, her husband's illness grew as well. resulting in his death.

with the sorrows of her lover's death still plaguing her mind, she parted from her son's life, leaving him with the only surviving family members he had left: his grandmother and grandfather.

yuri didn't understand. he was too young to understand. even now, at just a mere sixteen years old, he still doesn't understand why she left him. why she couldn't love him the way she once had.

his mother returned to the industry, an uncertain future lying before her, the heavy despair of her past bringing forth a new side of her art.

after returning to the industry, the idol refused to perform to anything that was not classical. the world saw it as a bittersweet reminder of the love she had lost, how she had held herself high through the grief that tainted her heart.

yuri saw it as an act of betrayal, as her way of trying to destroy what connected him to the one memory of his father that he had left.

he despised her, and he swore he always would.

but like any child, in the depths of his heart, he still longed for the lost love of his mother.

\---

his grandmother passed when he was just eight.

this time, he would not have to face his grief alone. 

he remembered the day clearly, so clearly that he sometimes wished that she had died sooner, like his father, so the grief wouldn't have to strike his heart as hard as it did every time he thought of it.

but it was selfish, and impossible. he was disgusted with himself every time the wish came to mind, but for some reason, he couldn't find himself to keep his thoughts from lingering there from time to time.

he was practicing his new routine that day. he was proud, so very proud of himself for what he had accomplished.

all day, he waited for his grandparents to pick him up, waiting so that he could show them what he had learned that day, like he often did when they came to pick him up.

all day, he waited.

he waited

waited

waited.

it wasn't until the sun was just barely hanging over the edge of the hill in the distance did yuri see his grandfather's car finally arrive, the soft hum of pièces froides pressing against the windows as he got closer to the car, his skating bag dragging behind him as he walked. 

but something was off.

his grandmother wasn't there. why wasn't his grandmother there? he had waited all day to show her and his grandfather his new routine.

it would have to wait another day, he supposed, but the feeling in his stomach and the look in his grandfather's eyes made him think that maybe such a thing might not be possible for some time.

if at all.

there was silence on the ride home. silence, and tension, anxiety surrounding yuri's entire being like a cloud, his leg bouncing rapidly as he stared at the road ahead. 

his grandfather struggled to hide his grief from yuri, his grip on the wheel tightening as he tried not reveal his true state. he was desperate to keep the news from him, at least until they got home.

to keep him from the horrible truth as long as possible.

on the way home, yuri watched as a single tear fell from his grandfather's eye, reflecting the orange glow of the sunset in front of them.

immediately, he understood.

grandma's sickness had finally caught up with her.

he was just a boy. already he had the loss of his father and grandmother, and the departure of his mother occupying his mind and his heart. not to mention the expectations he had to live up to, the standards he so desperately clawed his way towards, to be the best skater anyone had ever seen.

for a boy his age, he held more grief in his heart than anyone could have expected of a child.

\---

like his grandmother so many years ago, his grandfather had become sick.

there were no mentions from the doctors of it being fatal, thank god, but it wasn't entirely impossible, considering his old age and previous health problems.

after the news, the idea of his grandfather's death played at the back of his mind like a torturous melody that wouldn't leave his head until the anxiety had completely taken over his body.

yuri did his best to ignore the idea, but it would never truly leave his head.

yuri just prayed, fucking _prayed_ that nothing would happen to his grandfather before the olympics. 

so that he could at least watch yuri win that.

so he could at least return to his grandfather everything their family had sacrificed to get yuri to the top.

the program yuri was to skate to in the olympics was nocturn op. 9 no. 2, the closest he could get to making a tribute to his father while distancing himself from his mother.

he would have skated to no. 1 if he could, but he didn't think he could get through it without breaking down.

on the day of the olympics, he was able to spot his grandfather in the audience, watching him with a proud smile on his face.

yuri couldn't help but smile in return just before he laced up his skates. 

to no one's surprise, yuri had won, now one of the youngest figure skaters in the world to call themselves an olympic gold medalist.

one of the best days of his life, though, quickly turned into one of the worst.

his grandfather was hospitalized not too long after the event. yuri had gotten there as quickly as he could, and he looked down towards his grandfather, a re-run of his own program playing in the background on the tv above the hospital bed.

nocturne op 9 no 2 played in the background of his sobs as he was told his grandfather didn't have much longer to live.

\---

innocence,

longing,

understanding,

loneliness.

he was too young to have so much grief in his heart, so much loss, so much despair.

as he stared out the window, he pondered the meaning of loss. why one must lose it all if one is to want it all.

yuri was strong, stronger than anyone could have expected.

maybe when he told lilia that he would have sold his soul just to win, the world took it a bit too seriously. 

so maybe, just maybe, in return, the world took everything from him except his soul.

maybe this was the price one was to pay for success. they had to give up their happiness in exchange.

but it didn't matter. as nice as it would be, yuri would not have wished for things to be any different than they were today.

if happiness was the price to pay for success, he would make damn sure to pay back everything that was sacrificed to get him to the top.

he promised to himself, and to the people that he had lost, that he would make it all worth it.


End file.
